“Noooo! Please, I did everything you wanted!” Amelyth cried as the Romans began lifting the cross. The cum of a dozen Romans was flowing out her red, stretched out pussy and her hair was crusty from the dried semen of a hundred Romans. She was to be the totem of the Raptio festival, and her freshly violated body would hang in the center of the arena until every man in the city had drained his balls into or onto one of the dozens of available slave girls.
“Please, let me suck your beautiful Roman cock! PLEASE! HELP ME!” Norona sobbed as the brutal Roman in front of her ran the vicious cane across her soft, heaving breasts. “Please don’t hit me with that!”
“The whores of Germania, gentlemen. As you can see they’re all inferior specimens of womanhood.” The Princeps said.
Hours earlier these unfortunate women had been the taken by an entire Roman Century, 100 men still covered in blood from slaughtering their husbands in battle. There was something about shedding blood that made the Roman’s libido rage out of control, and they took these women viciously. Making sure they had no pleasure in it, even going so far as to wipe their cum out of the holes so that they wouldn’t be lubricated. And the rough hemp cloth they used only made their bruised, swollen labia even more raw and sensitive.
Now they were out here, a warning to the other tribes of Germania. Well at least until the next patrol came by, who undoubtedly take them down to empty their own balls into the broken women…

“Urrghhhh!” Betty spat, drool pouring from her mouth as the thick, smelly cock of the mechanic finally left her aching throat. “Please, I changed my mind! Forget the repairs, I’m leaving! I’m leaving right now! You fucking asshole, you almost choked me to death.”
Betty tried to stand, but the mechanic’s iron grip on her shoulders kept her down on her knees.
“Oh no, I’ve already done the repairs, and they were expensive. You promised me a world class blow job in exchange and that’s what I’m gonna get. If you haven’t learned how to deepthroat yet, that’s your problem.”
“NO! I’m leaving! LET ME GOOOO!” Betty began shrieking as the mechanic began dragging her into his garage. “Please! PLEASE! You’re scaring me!”
“Good. They say fear is a natural aphrodisiac…” The mechanic laughed.
“PLLSSSHHHH STTTHHHPPPPP!” Ashley cried behind the gag, her entire body shuddering with each brutal penetration. The fucking was bad enough, but the bastard ha also forced her to straddle some piece of equipment he had in the garage, and every thrust slammed her pelvis into it, scraping her delicate clit across the harsh metal.
“Fuck yeah… I wish more whores like you would break down around here. Normally I’d just throw you in the trunk of your car and take it to the wrecking yard, but fuck, your pussy is so nice that I think I’ll keep you.”
“Nnngghhhhh!” Ashley sobbed, her future life as a permanent fuck doll flashing horribly before her eyes.

“I enjoy watching tears pouring out of your eyes, bitch. I love to make girls cry, especially young, thin, attractive girls who think they are superior to men. What does your ass tell you about who is superior now, whore?”
Ssswish… THWACK!
“Oowwwuuuuuuggggh!”
“It feels like he is peeling the skin off my poor bottom. I could never have believed whipping could hurt so bad… I wish I had never worn tight clothes in my life… Maybe this sick bastard would not have picked me. Fuck! Help!”
“You have never been like this for a man before, have you, cunt! Totally exposed, entirely helpless, completely at his mercy! I bet that you have never even tasted cum, have you? Tease that you are, I bet you made men spurt their goo into your hand. Well, now you are with a man who doesn’t allow a slut to set the limits, a real man who does with sluts what his dick wants done… and all men, in their hearts, want to punish women.”
“Now I’ve got some nice, warm tit flesh and ass flesh to play with!”
Olivia felt Sanchez grab on to the burning skin of one of her big breasts. Even a touch would have been painful, but Sanchez squeezed his fingers into her skin – and he had just beaten her boobs so hard.
“Owww…”
Sanchez palmed the sore flesh of Madison’s bottom, and rested his large thumb comfortably between the lips of her pussy as if he owned it. As bad as it was to have the man look at her naked, spread puss, it was ten times worse to feel him touching it.
“Oh, yes! Look at this fuck flesh, all for me and all mine! I OWN you two cunts. I own that smooth skin of yours, I own those precious, high-riding titties of yours, I own your firm thighs, and I own your round asses.
“I own your obedience! I own your pain, your fears, your screams, your tears.”

Claire woke up in bed, on her left side, between her captors.
The teacher snored quietly behind her, to Claire’s right. The girl felt the horrid woman’s rear and shoulder blades pressing against her bound arms. But that was above and beyond the primary shock.
All the girl wore was a sheer, backless, pink lace, plunge-necked, micromini, halter babydoll.
Her forearms were strapped horizontally behind her with what felt like bandage. A padded strap, buckled tightly behind her head, sunk deep into her mouth, wrenching back her luscious lips.
Claire’s eyes fluttered, then snapped open when she realized that the deliveryman was pressed against her – one hand contorting her right breast, and the other holding her head as he slavered her mouth and throat.
Omigod, she thought in horror, her eyes widening. He’s making out with me.
Her eyes rolled, brow furrowing, as his salivating lips and slimy tongue mashed her mouth.

Randal hated his wife, Sonia; she was fat, undersexed and a total pain in his ass. Unfortunately she was also an heiress to a multibillion dollar company and the damn prenuptial agreement he signed meant he’d lose access to her fortune. Fortunately he knew a person who knew a person that knew how to contact the Coachers. After setting up an alibi of a three month vacation in the Caribbean, Randal delivered his wife to the Coachers.
From then on she was on a strict diet and daily schedule. Every morning she’d get on treadmill and run while one of the Coaches whipped her across the ass whenever she dared to slowdown. Afternoon was two hours of deepthroat training, choking on three thick cocks over and over again while she begged for it to stop. Then she’d have a salad for dinner before going to bed and getting double and triple penetrated in a gangbang that would last until sunrise, and leave her exhausted when she had to repeat it all the next day.
Now Sonia was back with her husband Randal, with the constant threat of a repeat visit making sure she stays quiet. Now she was back, on her back, with Randal preparing to sample her newly trained pussy.
“Please…fuck me, Randal. I love you! I love you! Just… don’t send me back!” Sonia begged.
Tiffany’s arms were burning and sweat was stinging her eyes as it poured down her face.
“Please…please I can’t! I can’t!” Tiffany cried, as her arms were jerked back by the weights she was strapped to. “NIIIEEEEARRGGHHH! PLEASE! DON’T!”
“You have forty more reps to go! Keep pulling on those weights and I’ll stop skinning your ass with my belt!” Coach Brick said. “Come on!”
“STOP! I can’t do this while you’re hitting me!” Tiffany screamed. She’d lost count of the number of times he’d hit her with his damn flogger, and her back and ass were burning. She was a professional trainer, so she was no stranger to intense workouts, but this was just too horrible.
“Come on slut, the faster you finish your exercises, the sooner you and I can go to bed. I know your pussy is sore from last night’s fuck session, so I’ve got a treat for you… tonight I’m just gonna give you a dildo. And then you’re gonna masturbate for me all night. Oh, and the dildo is fashioned after a horse cock…and I’m gonna make you shove the whole thing in your cunt. So hurry up and lift!”

Praetor Carvonus ran his fingers along the red welts blooming on his Dacian slave’s tiny tits, pinching and scratching them to make the girl’s tiny frame shudder on the cross. Decebalus’s Dacian army had been utterly crushed, and the fine women they had captured were now the spoils of war.
A few feet away a gorgeous blonde woman was struggling to walk as she was forced to hold the heavy wooden pole across her slender shoulders and two centurions whipped at her bare ass.
“Faster honey, I want you lathered up like a horse when I bust your cunt with my cock!” One of the centurions laughed.
“Please, let me fuck you now! I can’t hold this! PLEASE!” She whimpered.
Carvonus smiled, and forced two fingers into his slave’s dry cunt, brutally forcing open her reluctant hole.
“Ngggghhh!” She whined.
The Roman expertly struck her right across her puffy red nipples, driving them back into her chest like hammered nails and watching them rebound, swelling with welts.
“NOOOOOOO!”
The two Romans began alternating their strokes, first across her abused cunt, then across her tits and back and forth it went. Never giving her time to recover, striking her while she was still screaming from the earlier blow. Soon her tits and pussy were completely covered in welts.
“Open up whore, it’s time to swallow some Roman cock. My friend is going to keep whipping your filthy slit until I cum, and if you dare bite me, I’ll have him burn off your clit. Understand?”
The soldier didn’t even wait for her to reply, instead shoving himself balls deep in her throat and groaning with pleasure as she screamed around his cock…

As the marks of his whip burned in lines across their tender flesh, the girls watched as the fat, ugly face of their tormentor with its crooked-toothed grin slobbered all over their naked pain. The man’s face and the huge erection made clear to the miserable captives how pleased Sanchez was to be inflicting agony on helpless girls.
The terror Madison felt at the cruel control the man had over her body floated upon a puddle of humiliation the girl felt at the obscene exposure of her pussy to the man’s crazed lust. As Sanchez beat her friend’s tits, Madison saw how her waxed-smooth mound was vulnerable to his pig eyes and how it would be just as vulnerable to the bite of the whip if Sanchez chose to direct the leather there.
“See what your suffering does to me, slut? It turns my prick into an iron bar, all the better to rape you with later! It must feel like I’ve whipped your tits for hours, but it has only been minutes.
“Cry for me, whore! Seeing those fat tears run down your arrogant fucking face is the reason I endured years in a prison hellhole. I knew every day I survived I was that much closer to grabbing a bitch like you and making her pay for all the teasing, making her pay for all the times she gave me a hard on that she would never, ever consider satisfying. And now you are that bitch!
“Feel my whip cutting into your skin, punishing your proud tits! This is revenge for wearing those tight tank tops to flaunt your firm rack in the gym. All those aerobics classes with your sacks of breast meat jiggling left and right… Now I have you in my cellar and you follow my rules!”

The place was a simple two-story tract house with a finished basement on a normal suburban street that ran parallel to a main thoroughfare full of mini-malls, big-box stores, and chain restaurants. BDSM Art is here.
In fact, the first thing Claire saw, when her big, wide, eyes opened, was a home goods store in the late afternoon sun. That vision gave way to trees, then houses, and finally a two-car garage at the end of a driveway.
Claire’s popping brown eyes shot down to see that her breasts were barely contained by the way her torn shirt was knotted together, her chest flesh bulging out the top, sides, and bottom. What remained of her pleated skirt was pinned at her right hip, becoming little more than a plaid loincloth. Her leggings were m.i.a. but her high heel ankle boots were still tightly covering her feet. She saw the expertly secured straps at her ankles and knees. She could feel the cords at her wrists and elbows.
“You’re supple,” he giggled. “You can put your arms together behind your back as easy as pie. Can’t wait to try a reverse prayer on you….”
She tried to plead with her voice, hands, and body, but all she accomplished was making her tits protrude even more.
“Now, now, don’t beg,” he soothed. “I’ll fuck you again soon enough, I promise.”
Claire slammed back as far away from him as she could, screeching with all her might, tears all but exploding out of her eyes. He just laughed, pulling the van into the garage. He touched the button on the box clipped to the window-shade, and the garage door started lowering behind them. Suddenly Claire realized that she was well and truly trapped, but before the full import could sink in, he was gone, and the driver’s side door was slamming shut. 3D BDSM stories are here!

He had been fascinated by Maxima’s cunt, which responded immediately to the touch by producing a sweet-smelling oily secretion. The cunt-juice made his head spin, he said, and gave him a hard-on like the stone phallus that pointed the way to the whorehouse in the street. He was also fascinated by the girl’s noisy orgasms which seemed to get stronger and louder the more he whipped her ass and flogged her breasts with leather straps and canes.
Maxima had become the star turn at his dinner parties, where a special platform had been constructed for her. The platform was a kind of bed on very tall legs. Maxima was tied to it in different ways and guests sat underneath her. The height of the bed could be adjusted, and there were wide gaps in the wooden struts so that the guests could see her.
Maxima was tied in different ways and placed at different heights above the guests. If she lay on her front, her heavy breasts hung enticingly through two holes and swung over the table as if they had a life of their own. They could be slapped or caned at the guests’ discretion. Sometimes the guests covered them in meat juice and sucked them before they flogged them.
There was also a large hole in the bed immediately below Maxima’s cunt. Winners at dice games were allowed to masturbate her in any way they wished. They normally did this with fingers of fruit or tongues. The drunken and horny guests were fascinated by her shouts and by the way she squirted over them when she had an orgasm.
They called her Flavia now. She had been caught when her village on the south coast of Gaul was attacked by Arab pirates one night. She was later sold to a Roman slave trader. She knew nothing about her future life as a slave because enslaved women never came back to tell their story…
Flavia had been with her Marius, her Master, for a week now. During that week she had spent a lot of time working naked in the house all day, often in the kitchen. Marius was a bachelor and he wanted a slave who could cook.
Flavia had also spent a lot of time naked sucking her Master’s cock. He rarely beat her when she was working in the house, but every time she sucked his cock he slapped her with a horrible stick rod made of dry twisted leather. It cut into her and stung badly.
When he beat her, he sometimes spoke one word at a time and hit her to emphasize his words…
“Keep… sucking… bitch!” he said, with three blows on her buttocks. “And stop this light-fingered stuff!”
SLAAAAAAAAAAP!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!! YES, MASTER!”
SUCK! SUCK!
“I… want… to have… an orgasm, you stupid slut! Do… you… understand?”
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!! Yes, Master!”
“If you just suck the end of my cock, we’ll be here all month. And three fingers are not going to help much either!”

As the marks of his whip burned in lines across their tender flesh, the girls watched as the fat, ugly face of their tormentor with its crooked-toothed grin slobbered all over their naked pain. The man’s face and the huge erection made clear to the miserable captives how pleased Sanchez was to be inflicting agony on helpless girls.
The terror Madison felt at the cruel control the man had over her body floated upon a puddle of humiliation the girl felt at the obscene exposure of her pussy to the man’s crazed lust. As Sanchez beat her friend’s tits, Madison saw how her waxed-smooth mound was vulnerable to his pig eyes and how it would be just as vulnerable to the bite of the whip if Sanchez chose to direct the leather there.
In their thoughts both girls were reduced to a primal hope that the man would spend his time hurting her friend and leaving her alone.
Stop, you sick bastard, stop! My breasts are burning! He’s going to whip them off of my body!
“See what your suffering does to me, slut? It turns my prick into an iron bar, all the better to rape you with later! It must feel like I’ve whipped your tits for hours, but it has only been minutes.
“Cry for me, whore! Seeing those fat tears run down your arrogant fucking face is the reason I endured years in a prison hellhole. I knew every day I survived I was that much closer to grabbing a bitch like you and making her pay for all the teasing, making her pay for all the times she gave me a hard on that she would never, ever consider satisfying. And now you are that bitch!
“Feel my whip cutting into your skin, punishing your proud tits! This is revenge for wearing those tight tank tops to flaunt your firm rack in the gym. All those aerobics classes with your sacks of breast meat jiggling left and right… Now I have you in my cellar and you follow my rules!”